Let Me Count The Ways
by thirteenxwishes
Summary: Love is more than just a word. So is Time, and the two don't always go hand in hand. This is the story of their struggle against destiny, from two sides of a well to be together again. ::Inuyasha/Kagome - written for LJ comm un love you::
1. Keep One Eye on the Scythe: Always

**Disclaimer**: All rights to Inuyasha go to Rumiko Takahashi et al - I own nothing.

_A/N:_ This collection of thirty pieces is written for the LJ comm un_love_you, where the idea is that not all relationships have to be defined by the words 'I love you'. I don't know whether they'll be interconnected yet or not, but they will all by Inuyasha/Kagome and (as usual xD) un-beta'd. So if you pick up any mistakes, feel free to give me a hearty kick and let me know.

This was designed to be an exercise in present tense, imagery and emotion. And it's quite dark, for me. Which is unusual. Success? You tell me. ^^

Word count: 717 words. Diverging canon universe. Un-beta'd.

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**Keep One Eye on the Scythe - Always**

The battle rages far into the evening. Kagome can see the remains of the village blazing against the dark sky. Smouldering ash clumps together into little fireships which sail from one helpless hut to the next, spreading the bright, burning bite of death. Crippling. Destroying.

She wants to sob when Kaede's home catches light. Their memories - of laughter, tears, companionship - crackle away with the wood and curl upwards into the smoke, dead and dying. Crying.

She can do nothing. Except pull the last arrow from her quiver, and hope that they all make it through to see the new dawn, waiting and expectant on the other side.

Her arms stretch in the familiar motion. The bow is a dark line against the chaos sitting below the ridge; where Miroku and Sango and Inuyasha are fighting for their lives, and hers as well. Kagome takes a breath. It holds in her chest, and she closes her eyes, pouring her hopes and dreams into that thin piece of wood; her regrets, what-ifs, could-bes and all the things left unsaid between the endless moments of speech and silence. In this, she thinks, there is no black or white: only grey, and death hiding in the shadows. Waiting. Always, always waiting.

When she finally feels empty, she breathes out. Her eyes snap open and the arrow flies, a bright comet streaking across the night. Watching it go - knowing the exact weight of what it carries inside the rosy haze of purification - feels a little like absolution.

...but why should she be absolved, when they deserve it so much more?

And then, Inuyasha is there. He stands at her side, Tetsusaiga gleaming dully and cast red in blood and fire. She can tell he was counting the arrows - knew she had a dozen, saw that one as her last and came to stop death from sliding out of the shadows to grasp her by the throat. Those golden eyes are burning, far brighter than the flames licking the timbers of the village.

"You hurt?"

"Not much. You?"

He doesn't answer. She sees the dark blotches patterning his hakama. Her hands and heart flutter uselessly.

"Inuyasha..."

"Nothing serious."

"You always say that, but-"

She never finishes her sentence, because suddenly she is moving, bundled into a pair of strong arms with his blood soaking into her clothes and skin. A cloud of miasma blows over them; she chokes into his shoulder. From somewhere to her left, the thing that used to be Naraku laughs - madly, inhumanly, its massive bulk blotting out the pale light of the moon.

Kagome hears something like the whoosh of wind. Inuyasha grunts, stumbles, and runs faster.

"Miroku and Sango are waiting for me to get back. We'll try to get rid of Naraku, but we need you to be out of the way."

This isn't what she wants to hear.

"What?! I'm as much a part of this as you are, and-"

"Kagome."

He sounds so worn, so weary and pleading and desperate, that the emotion in that one word silences her. They arrive at the well, and she knows. The truth sits in every stiff line of his body, every blink and every beat of his heart. She understands him. He can never keep anything from her for long.

"Inuyasha, _please_."

There is a poetry about it, the end coming at the place where everything began. But she doesn't want poetry. She wants _him_. He obliges, sets her down and looks at her - _looks_ at her, beyond skin and blood and muscle and bone, right down into the hidden heart of her, the part that wants to wrap itself around him and never let go.

This is where the denial comes from, when Naraku's tentacle blossoms from his chest.

"NO!"

This is what bleeds, when he wastes his last opportunity to escape by pushing her into the well.

This is what screams, as he falls away from her and towards death, who is stepping out from the shadows and smiling widely, his long wait finally over.

Her world ends; not with a bang, or a whimper, but a whisper.

"Goodbye."

She screams, and screams, and screams, until she can't scream any more.

The flames disappear. Inuyasha disappears.

She does, too.

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Written for Prompt 27, Author's Choice, at LJ comm un_love_you. For this prompt, I came up with; 'Is this a beginning, or an end?'

Any and all feedback will be greeted with hugs and much appreciation. In fact, it's probably up there with coffee on level of importance in my life. xD So, if you liked it, let me know. If you didn't - likewise, and tell me why. Concrit is the best form of review, after all. Thanks for reading!


	2. Trick the Reaper, You May Win

**Disclaimer**: All rights to Inuyasha go to Rumiko Takahashi et al - I own nothing.

_A/N:_ This collection of thirty pieces is written for the LJ comm un_love_you, where the idea is that not all relationships have to be defined by the words 'I love you'. They will all by Inuyasha/Kagome and (as usual xD) un-beta'd. So if you pick up any mistakes, feel free to give me a hearty kick and let me know.

This was another dark one, but I hope to offer some... well, hope. xD This has a more introspective air, but going for the imagery and emotion all the same. Fingers crossed, anyway.

Word count: 1,000 words. Diverging canon universe. Un-beta'd.

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**Trick the Reaper, You May Win**

She's gone.  
She's gone.  
_She's gone._

The words brand themselves in fire across his thoughts as he is lifted up and away, hollow victory ringing in his ears.

"You won't have her, Naraku..."

A shadow of his smirk surfaces from somewhere; an empty space that used to be called 'Kagome'.

"... she isn't yours. She never will be..."

He chokes a laugh, the irony stinging because she isn't here to hear him say this, finally, at the end of all things.

"... because she's _mine_..."

It's only a cracked whisper, but his one triumph is like a knife through the monster crushing his ribs. Naraku roars; the air pulses once, twice, and explodes. Heat rushes over him in a blistering wave - it seeps easily through the tears in his clothes and sears line upon line upon line of red, scoring patterns in his skin that make him hiss violently between his teeth.

The destruction of the well is the work of a second. It crumbles into dust under the pressure of the shouki, blazing white and blue and spitting sparks far hotter than the fire ravaging the village.

Around his neck, the beads shatter.

He watches the splinters tumble, feels blood slide down his neck from where some have burrowed into him, taking shelter from the devastation. The acrid scent of smoking wood stings his nose, and he sags. Helpless.

Everything is burning. His world is being consumed, and the ties binding him to Kagome are drifting apart... _snip-snip _... as easily as he swings Tetsusaiga, cuts down danger in a single stroke so he can return to her, safe and smiling.

But where is the sword now?  
Where is Kagome now?

Gone. Gone.

And it hurts; more than the wound gaping in his chest or the deep cuts littering his legs. Naraku is nothing compared to losing her. iNothing/i.

... but, a little voice whispers, **she isn't lost**...

Not really. Kagome Higurashi is out there somewhere. Alive.

Pain threatens.

His vision hazes between darkness and the hell of the battlefield, and in that place between waking and unconsciousness, he finds her. Kagome. Ka-go-me. _Kagome_.

The one who looks like Kikyou, but couldn't be more different.  
The one with the scent of sunrise, fresh mornings and sweet, dewy grass.  
The one who saw him for what he was; nothing more, nothing less, just Inuyasha and all his sins, lost boy and vicious fighter, jilted lover and... her protector. Always, always her protector, no matter what.

She reaches out, searching for his hand with a gentle smile. And, god, he wants to keep her with him. He wants to bury his hands in her hair, pull her closer and closer until they are so close that they have no choice but to live inside each other, sharing every breath, every beat, every moment...

Two in one.

And they will be, he thinks, and smiles in the face of the waiting spectre. Because what is more powerful than time, if not death?

Through shattered eyes and broken bones, Inuyasha sees. Hell and the shadows have come to claim his soul, now, almost fifty-three years too late. He can feel them through the darkness; that cold touch, creeping across his limbs. Fingers trailing along bleeding wounds, making them burn and burn and burn until they go numb, and it is the numbness that spreads like wildfire, sinking its teeth into his neck and drawing away awareness, coherence, understanding. All it leaves behind when it pulls back, sated and dripping scattered pieces of his self, is acceptance.

He will die.  
But at some distant, dizzy point in the future, Kagome will die too.

Let death be their meeting place.

Inuyasha closes his eyes. The Shikon no Tama, buried and black in the bubbling flesh of Naraku's chest can do nothing, but perhaps it will hear him through the taint, respond to the purity of his desire.

_'Please.'_

And so.

The scythe swings...

_(The wind tunnel howls. Sango screams, and so does Naraku. Somewhere, his father snarls and bares his teeth, claws gleaming for slaughter...)_

... and misses.

The world bends.

Inuyasha wakes up nearly a week and a half later, a bandage wrapped tightly around his chest and his sword propped against the wall. Miroku is laid out on a sleeping mat to his left - asleep, still breathing. Kaede is dosing him with tea, so intent that she hasn't noticed her other patient stirring. Sango kneels with her hand across his forehead, colouring the air with the shifting scent of anxiety.

He holds his breath - but even without his sense of smell, the missing piece of them yawns, black and endless as the Meidou.

Kagome...

'_Is safe, safe, safe, but that doesn't matter because_ she isn't here.'

He shifts, and his body screams at him just as his mind tumbles its way into understanding. He veered from the path, left the journey unfinished and now she is waiting, an eternity away. Five hundred years. An unreachable distance - not something he can run or fight or curse his way across.

_'My fault... all my fault... such a useless, worthless, pathetic_ bastard...'

The sheer force and shape and mass of what he's done settles itself on his shoulders, and Inuyasha just lies there, inert from pain both physical and emotional. He knows, somewhere deep in his chest that she is feeling this unbearable heaviness too; he saw it in her eyes as she fell, the ripping of something vital and the gaping slice it left behind, stretching long and limitless like the years.

He caused that hurt. And he hates himself for it.

But at the same time, he has no regrets. If it means her safety, he would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Inuyasha closes his eyes, and consigns himself to the long road. If he's very, very lucky, he can atone, find the path again and see her on the other side of time.

One day, he will reach across that distance.

_'Please, Kagome... I'm sorry. Wait for me...'_

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Written for Prompt 22, 'I hate myself', at LJ comm un_love_you.

Any and all feedback will be greeted with hugs and much appreciation. In fact, it's probably up there with coffee on level of importance in my life. xD So, if you liked it, let me know. If you didn't - likewise, and tell me why. Concrit is the best form of review, after all. Thanks for reading!


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